“The gaol!” Mr. Price exclaimed.
“Yes,” James said, not offering any other information.
Mr. Price frowned. “Not more than another mile.”
“Thank you.” James turned to go back upstairs.
“Should you like some breakfast, sir?” Mr. Price asked.
“Yes. In the private parlor in, say, thirty minutes?”
“Yes, sir. And the missus?”
“No, Lady Branstoke will break her fast in our room.”
“Very good, sir.”
“And please let me know if Miss Hammond returns while I am still here.”
“Yes, sir.”
James nodded and turned to go back up the stairs.
He returned to their room to find Cecilia sitting up in bed reading a novel. She set it aside as he entered.
“You should read this novel,” she said. “It’s the new one byAnonymousfrom the Merriman publisher.”
“Is that the new gothic one touted in the papers?”
“Yes.”
He shook his head. “I am not a gothic reader.”
“This one is different. You should at least try it.”
He snorted. “Perhaps.”
“Oh you, that means you won’t,” she accused.
He laughed. “No,” he contradicted, “it means perhaps.”
She frowned at him, then laughed. “All right. So, what have you learned of Mr. Stackpoole?”
“Mr. Price says he is still sick, and Miss Hammond believes it to be a stomach influenza.”
She wrinkled her nose. “And we spent all yesterday in his company.”
“Yes, which is why I’d like you to rest here this morning while I visit Soothcoor. We will go to Camden House on my return.”
“But I wanted to see the earl!” she complained. “I have so much to ask him!”
“That wouldn’t be in keeping with the ruse you intend to play.”
She made a face at him. “No, you are correct. Though sometimes it doesn’t feel like a ruse with this plaguey cough.”
He touched her head. “I know. Do you not trust me to question Soothcoor adequately?”
“Of course I do. Probably better than I should. It’s just…” she trailed off.
